


The Quest for Potter’s Pants

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 8th year, First Kiss, Fluff, Hogwarts, Humor, Idk I love these two idiots, M/M, Post-War, Secret Identity, discovery of feelings, polyjuice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29475384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: As a dare during their 8th year, Theo has to take polyjuice and infiltrate the Gryffindor common room and return with Harry Potter's trunks. But as the night turns to dawn, Theo learns the truth about what it's been like for Harry and the even harder truth that he might want more from the Golden Boy than just his trunks.
Relationships: Background Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 171
Collections: Evil Author Musings





	The Quest for Potter’s Pants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).



> This story was written for the Welcome Back to Hogwarts Fest hosted by The Nott Spot group on Facebook and was inspired by this prompt from LadyKenz347 (the prompt is the summary of the story). Needless to say, I didn’t finish it for the fest because my muse is the worst. I decided to finish it for Evil Author’s Day... so joke’s on me. 🤣

Under normal circumstances, Theo would never venture so far up the castle. The towers are for Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and plebs who believe in the power of divination. Alas, he begrudgingly drags himself up and up staircase after staircase towards what he’s certain is his impending doom.

Bollocks to Draco, Blaise, and that other fellow he’d never learned the name of—a simple game of Veritaserum or Dare meant to pave the path for Blaise to  _ finally _ admit his feelings for Astoria has turned into Ways In Which His Mates Could Fuck Him Over instead.

Theo is muttering to himself, threatening the lot of them with Firecrabs in their beds. He already has an excellent source for magical creatures to use in the torture of his so-called mates. A bit of coin exchange, a couple of owls, and some thick dragonhide gloves are all he needs to ensure they never find themselves daring Theo with something so stupid again.

Infiltrate the Gryffindor common room and steal Harry Potter’s trunks. Salazar’s saggy ballsack, the lot of them deserve to be publicly flogged for their idiocy. Their final year at Hogwarts shouldn’t be filled with the eventual icy glares, steadfast huffs, and misplaced scrutiny that would result in being found out by the Golden Trio. Boy Wonder himself tends to watch Theo closely already and so stealing his pants would certainly earn Theo more of that intense—can’t tell if Potter wants to shag him or strangle him—eye contact.

Adjusting the ugly crimson tie at his neck and cursing the discomfort of wool skirts and stockings, Theo utters the moronic password to the Fat Lady, who appears to be more than halfway through a jug of wine.

_ Courage _ , he thinks with an exaggerated roll of his eyes as the portrait swings open. How trite. Just like Gryffindor to be so unimaginative as to use such a commonplace term to protect them from the nefarious other class men who’d otherwise break into their safe haven.

As Theo crosses the threshold into the stifling hot, bourgeois space, he sniffs.

It stinks of bravery and chivalry.

He doesn’t get any time to orient himself to his new surroundings before he’s accosted by Potter and his stupidly wide grin and bright green eyes.

“Hermione! Thank Merlin. Did you find the book?” Potter touches Theo as if they’re familiar, friendly, and it takes all of Theo’s willpower not to recoil. He grunts rather than answer, and allows Potter to lead him to a plush, crimson settee in front of a roaring fire. “Ron’s already gone to bed, says he’ll just copy us before Herbology in the morning.”

“Wanker.” The venom slips out before he can stop it. Eyes widening, Theo waits for Potter to call him out, to press his legendary wand to his jugular and demand an explanation.

It doesn’t happen. Instead, much to Theo’s surprise and amusement, a throaty laugh greets his words. “I see Malfoy’s tutoring you in more than just Potions. Do you kiss Ron with that mouth?”

“Malfoy?” Theo squeaks, and then it hits him all at once. All the late nights Draco’s spent studying in the library. The way he slithers from the common room with Very Important Business.

He hasn’t been piling on the extra community service hours—oh no. He’s been fucking Hermione Granger. Well, that certainly explains why he’s had her hair on hand and that diamond-like twinkle in his eye as Theo transformed in their dorm.

“As a matter of fact,  _ Harry _ ,” Theo says sweetly, pouring as much saccharine into his words as he possibly can, “I do far more to Draco with this mouth.”

“Oh fucking hell, Mione. Don’t even joke about that.” Potter’s lips tug down in a gruesome frown. “It’s bad enough you’ve decided to learn advanced potions with him. I don’t need to think about...that.”

“Thank Merlin it has nothing to do with you then.” Theo imagines that he’s showcasing Hermione Granger’s best perfunctory glare. Clearly it’s something Potter’s used to seeing as he merely rolls his eyes and kicks an ankle over his knee. Seeing Golden Boy so relaxed does funny things to Theo’s brain. “So what’s the plan tonight? Are we storming the castle in search of troublemakers to harass or is it a night of pillow fights and comparing our magical prowess to the rest of the houses?”

“See. This right here.” Potter gestures vaguely to Theo’s person, a tight pull to his lips as they cast downward. “Is precisely why this whole Draco Malfoy Project is a bad idea.”

Granger has an entire Draco Malfoy  _ Project _ ; Theo laughs, wishing he had some sort of recording device for his adventure tonight. Many things make a lot more sense now—the change in Draco’s attitude, the way he smiles now, the fact that he’s been besting Theo in Transfiguration for the first time in their eight years at school. The strange thing is, the idea of Granger and his best mate actually makes sense. Of course, with their powers combined, they could likely bring about the apocalypse as well. So, note to self: keep a close eye on this budding relationship and prepare oneself for the eventuality that he might need to host an intervention if these two start messing with ancient magicks.

“You’re not wrong,” Theo mutters, eyes gazing into the fire ahead. Adjusting the knot of his tie, Theo loosens it and pops open the buttons at his throat. Bloody common room is hotter than Hades’ balls.

They fall into a comfortable silence beside one another as Potter begins to scratch his quill against parchment. A quick glance confirms he’s working on the aforementioned Herbology homework. Lazy sod—the entire Slytherin house had their essays written three days ago. Theo would never understand how any Gryffindors actually finished Hogwarts with their shoddy work ethic and inability to concentrate on lessons over gallivanting through the castle to find trouble.

“That’s incorrect,” Theo says, pointing to a line on Potter’s parchment. “Belladonna can’t be ingested—not unless you temper it with cane sugar and ground bezoar. Even then, you’ll hallucinate like a motherfu—” As Potter’s eyes widen, Theo clears his throat. Right; perfect little Hermione Granger doesn’t speak so brazenly. How dull. “That is to say, Belladonna has intense hallucinogenic properties that even skilled Herbologists and Potioneers can’t combat.”

Potter’s eyes linger on him for a long moment before he turns back to his parchment and—like the peasant he is—scribbles out the line. The inky, messy parchment gives Theo hives. Plebeian numpty.

“Right.” Scratching the hairs at the back of his neck, Potter cants his chin towards Theo and offers him the most ridiculous, awkward smirk he’s ever witnessed in his entire life. “No Belladonna unless we’re looking for an adventurous night. Got it.”

Leveling a look that he hopes will relay how utterly mental he thinks Potter is, Theo says in his most deadpan tone, “That’s not at all what I said.”

“It’s not what you say, but how you say it.” Cheeky little berk that he is, Potter’s grin widens. “Aw, come on, Hermione. You promised eighth year would be different. Live a little.”

“How in the name of Salazar’s left testicle did you ever survive the last seven years?” It leaves his mouth before he can stop it. Eyebrows high on his head, Theo can feel them trying to inch into his hairline.

Potter only chuckles and continues to scribble on his parchment like the bumbling mess that he is.

They sit in silence again, longer than the last, and Theo’s about ready to go out of his bloody mind. Is this all Gryffindors do? Sit around in silence and get their homework wrong? He leans over Potter’s parchment, notices several inconsistencies with the materials they’ve covered in class. Ripping the sheet away from Potter’s lap, Theo ignores the indignant huff and tears the sheet into little bits.

“You’re truly awful at school, do you know that?” With a simple spell, Theo lifts the pieces of parchment to the fire and watches them shrivel away. He turns back to Potter with a smirk that definitely doesn’t belong on Hermione Granger’s face, and shakes his head. “It’s a wonder you haven’t been held back several years.”

“That’s thanks to you,” he says like he’s proud of the fact that he’s scraped by his education because he’s managed to make a brilliant friend that bails him out at every turn. Theo curls his hands into fists and scowls. Muppet. “You know I couldn’t have done any of it without you.” Potter pauses, his tone dipping into a solemn whisper. “Any of it, Hermione, I mean that. I wouldn’t have survived at all without you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, you spoon.”

A solitary brow arches over one of Potter’s striking green eyes and then he does that uncomfortable stare thing wherein it feels as if he’s seeing past Theo’s very convincing disguise right through to his soul. “You’re different tonight.”

“Yes, well, shagging Malfoy all over the castle has knocked some sense into me, I suppose.”

“Bloody hell, Hermione!” Potter covers his ears as if he’s a child, squeezing his eyes shut as if that will help combat the image of their friends using the castle as their personal bedroom. “Do me a favor and don’t mention this to Ron.”

Theo snorts. If Weasley even thinks he’s got a shot at woo-ing Granger, he’s even more of an idiot than the Slytherins have given him credit for. “Right,” Theo sighs instead of voicing his concern that Weasley is just a git in a ginger suit. “We keep secrets from W—Ron. Just a normal occurrence for us. I’m beginning to lose track. What other secrets do we have?”

Okay, so he’s pushing his luck and he knows it, but there has to be more to this dare than simply nicking a pair of Potter’s pants.

Something about Potter’s quiet stare unfurls threads of excitement deep in Theo’s belly. The longer he stares, the more intense the sensation. Prickles tingle along the base of his skull, the fine hairs there sticking up on end as Potter chomps down on his plump lower lip. The way his tongue sweeps along the red flesh causes Theo’s stomach to flip. Warning bells blare inside his head. His instincts yell at him to abort the mission. And still, he returns the stare just as steadily until Potter finally breaks into a slow, easy smile.

“Well…” Scooting closer, Potter reaches his arm behind Theo’s shoulders and presses his thighs close. “There’s that one time you and I…you know.” He lifts his eyebrows high and Theo can feel the raging flush heat his face, swallowing hard. Potter’s fingers caress the back of Theo’s neck, brushing Granger’s ridiculous mane out of the way. “I quite like that we’ve kept that secret, don’t you?”

Potter and Granger?  _ Potter _ and  _ Granger _ ?

Theo explodes from the sofa, arms splayed wide. Heart hammering and eyes filled with pure madness.

“Are you mad?” he shouts, and then jumps back as Potter stands and gets right up in his personal bubble. “You and I— _ we _ — _ this— _ is entirely inappropriate, Potter.”

Potter’s grin lights the room, and Theo swears to Salazar himself the fire flickers in tandem with the sparkle of his eyes. Bloody common room is probably synced to Wonder Boy’s magic. Just the sort of silly shit a Gryffindor would do.

“So, I’m Potter now?” Eyebrows are so high on his head, they’re practically burrowing into that ridiculous hair. His fingers reach out, caressing Hermione’s— _ Theo’s _ —bicep. “Gotta say, Hermione, I’m surprised at you. You didn’t think it was inappropriate when we—”

Theo plugs his ears. Starts shouting “La la la la la,” at the top of his lungs whilst squeezing his eyes so hard spots burst behind them.

He rockets into the air when a hand, big and warm, settles over his shoulder.

“Bloody  _ hell _ !”

Potter just laughs. A gravelly sort of chuckle that does stupid, heavy things to his stomach.

“Seriously, P—Harry.” Theo turns so they’re eye to eye… or, eye to chin because Hermione Bleeding Granger is so fucking short. Lips pursed, he pretends he’s taller than he is and even puts his hands on his hips as he puffs his chest. “There’s no sodding chance that happened, so you can fuck right off with it,”

“Alright.” Lifting his hands in supplication, Potter sits back against his seat on the sofa with that annoying little smile of his. “My bad. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Let’s just keep studying, alright?”

Is the Gryffindor answer to every misery in life studying? Isn’t that a Ravenclaw thing? Just who does Potter think he’s kidding?

Just as Theo’s puffing out Granger’s quite impressive bossom, Potter gives a small gesture for him to sit, and those cheeky, amused eyes of his follow Theo all the way down into the cushions.

Fucking. Hell.

“Fine,” he says through gritted teeth, leaning his elbows onto his knees and resting his chin in his palm. “But no more talk of you and I shagging. Just—no.”

They fall into companionable silence. The ticking clock is ever present in Theo’s mind. He’s got a quarter of an hour before his current bird’s nest transforms into respectable hair, before his soft hips gain sharp edges, and he loses the ability to see what’s really under Granger’s robes. Not that he’s fussed, really. Lady bits are a bit of a turn off, no matter how many times Blaise tries to tell him otherwise.

“Theo?”

“Hmm?”

Theo cocks his head to the side to find Potter absolutely grinning like a mad man in his direction.

“Why—”

Oh, piss, bugger, and shit.

He wants to sink into the sofa so far, he’s ejected out into space. Maybe a black hole will eat him up. Anything’s better than Potter’s amusement shining back at him.

Theo protests weakly. A defense so horrible, he groans and wonders if it’s possible to Avada oneself.

“So.” Potter turns to the side, homework forgotten. “You’re not Hermione.”

He thinks, maybe, if he were cleverer, he could somehow get out of this. But he’s a Slytherin—he’s conniving and manipulative, not fucking logical and trite.

Sighing, Theo shrugs. “Nope.”

“You had me for a bit.” There’s that blasted smile again, as if he’s well chuffed to be the Darling Detective all on his own. “I can’t figure out if you’re lying about Hermione sleeping with Malfoy—”

“Trust me, it’s better not to know,” he muttered, picking at lint on the sofa. “When did you know?”

“About Hermione and Malfoy?”

“No, you divot.” Theo scoffs. “About me.”

“Oh!” Potter gets animated; he’s like a fucking squirrel, fidgeting around and twitching with excitement. “Hermione goes by the book. She’d never use ground bezoar as an argument for anything. Doesn’t follow the science, and all that.”

A laugh bubbles out of Theo’s throat. “Granger truly hates potions that much?”

Potter grimaces and nods. “She’ll never forgive me for besting her in sixth year.”

“Nor should she,” Theo says, finding himself relaxing quite easily in Potter’s company. It’s entirely off-putting. “The only person we thought you’d do better than is Finnegan, and that’s only because he’s always a hot minute away from exploding the entire castle.”

Potter’s shoulders shake, and it takes Theo a second to realize he’s laughing. He’s suddenly struck with the notion that visiting Potter is a very bad idea, because, as his arms tense and his muscles stretch beneath his skin, something clicks into place.

Bollocks.

He fancies the git.

And he can’t very well steal his pants if he fancies him. That’s just rude and… and counterproductive.

“So, Theo?” There’s still a breath of a laugh on his words. “What’re you doing in our dorm?”

Buggering shit. Lifting a hand to his neck, Theo pinches the tight muscles there. “If I tell you, you’ll be sworn to whatever secrecy spell Granger’s person earns from you.”

“That’s not at all how honesty works,” Potter chides him. Still bloody laughing. “How about you just tell me, and then trust me to keep your secret on my honor?”

Theo doesn’t trust it.

But he’s not sure he’s got a choice, if he’s honest. Potter’s sort of holding all the cards. He can be expelled for this.  _ And _ , he’d lose the Dare. Given who his friends are, and how shoddy their priorities tend to be, Theo knows he  _ has  _ to accomplish the dare.

Maybe he can turn this to his favor. Potter isn’t kicking him out or drawing his wand. It’s safe to bet the bespectacled lump may even want him here.

Theo tries to arrange Granger’s face into something sexy—though, what that looks like, he’s not sure because from fourth year, she’s been  _ off limits _ , per Draco. Not that he’s interested anyway because, well. If sitting here lusting after Potter isn’t a clue, then he’s not sure what is.

“Harry.” It’s his very best Granger impression. Strict and no-fun-at-all. He scoots closer, so their thighs are touching like before.

“Oh no. No, no, no. Not with my best friend’s face. No.”

Potter springs up.

But Theo’s ignoring that in favor of something else.

“But, with  _ my _ face…”

The silence is eerie. Perhaps he’s read Potter wrong.

At least, that’s what he thinks until he really looks at him. A delicious blush stains his cheeks as his eyes dip to the floor.

Theo’s up and in Potter’s personal space in the space of a heartbeat. Two minutes left with the bloody potion, then he can kiss Potter silly and nick his pants.

Not a bad day for Theo Nott.

They stand in silence. Staring. Knowing what’s coming the second Theo’s face morphs into sharp lines and a stubbled jaw. The wait is nearly insufferable; he wants to reach out, to steal the kiss now. But it would be Granger’s lips to kiss, her eyes that flutter closed, her hands that wrap in that ridiculous black mop of hair. And Theo can’t stand the thought.

So he waits, and waits.

The transformation doesn’t hurt, just feels a bit bubbly. At the end of it, he’s standing in front of Potter in Hermione Granger’s school uniform and with Theo Nott’s face.

He smiles. “You know, Gryffindor colors suit you.”

“Oh, fuck off, Potter.”

And then his hands are in Potter’s hair, tangling in the roots, tilting his strong chin back and angling it just so. He doesn’t kiss him, not yet. He hovers, stares through Theo Nott’s eyes. Grey, desperate eyes that flick across Potter’s surprised face and commit it to memory.

Finally—finally, Potter’s lips are against his. Soft but firm. He’s sure, Theo can tell, and Merlin’s arse, so is Theo. More certain than he’s felt in months. They crash against each other, pushing and pulling, and Theo’s pretty sure Potter’s hand is inching toward his arse and—

They break apart. He’s not sure who stopped it. Or why. But he’s bereft without Potter’s lips encased in his.

“Tell me the truth,” Potter says, heaving a breath and not taking his eyes off Theo’s stinging, swollen lips.

Cursing, Theo swallows, and looks down at his ridiculous outfit. Fucking Draco Malfoy, the prat. He’s going to hex him to the bowels of Hell later.

“I need to steal your pants,” Theo whispers, hating every word that’s coming out of his mouth. “For a dare.”

Potter doesn’t say a word. He’s gone, then back, and Theo’s pretty fucking sure he’s some kind of superhero—Lightening Man, or some other ridiculous name.

He can hardly enjoy Potter’s return, however, because he’s holding up his underwear. Underwear that’s  _ tight looking _ and decorated with lions and the Hogwarts crest.

Helga’s tits.

Theo Nott is done for.

“You’re going to kill me, Boy Wonder.”

He wraps his hand around the pants—doesn’t even bother to ask if they’re clean, or if Potter wants them returned (he’ll never get them back). Stuffs them right into the band of Granger’s skirt, then grabs Potter by his collar and yanks him in for the hottest kiss Theo’s ever given in his life.

It’s several minutes before Potter pulls back, chuckling as he caresses Theo’s hip. “Does it have the same effect if I tell you I’m wearing the matching pair right now?”

Theo groans. A painful, raw sound. “There’s no archaic charm against taking another boy to your room, is there?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! There are some awesome stories being uploaded today for Evil Author’s Day! Check out the collection this story’s a part of! :)


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